thegraverunnersguildfandomcom-20200216-history
Jadira and Prince Shura
They weren’t fucking coming for her. She was the prince’s bodyguard, not a noble, not a government official, nobody important enough to rescue. So Jadira curled up in her cell as best she could, which was hard, because she had no hay or mattress to sleep on, and her arms were broken, and her nose was clotted with blood. She was naked, and shivered violently in the cold. Prince Shura had retreated. She knew that. The invading orcs had taken over Alabaster. There was no option left but to run-- and leave people behind. They discussed this, before she was captured. Then, as they were planning their escape together, someone had tried to assassinate Shura. And Jadira had done her job defending him. He’d grabbed the friends he could and run. Jadira had stayed behind to fight off the attackers and give Shura more time to escape. And now there was no chance of rescue. Doubtless everyone thought she was dead. Even if they knew the enemy captured her and left her alive… even if they knew she was alive… They weren’t coming for her. She wasn’t important enough. As she was lying there, though, a quiet voice called through the window: “Jadira.” Jadira froze, barely breathing. That was her prince’s voice. She clawed her way up to the window and stood on her toes to peer out as best she could. Prince Shura had climbed the tower. Which was fucking insane. His pale, pointed face looked at at her through the bars. She glanced down at the staggering hundred-foot drop beneath the prison tower. “Shura,” Jadira hissed reproachfully. “Oh, shut up,” Shura said. “You’re captured. You can’t tell me what to do.” He fumbled. It was hard to tell what he was doing through the tiny window, but it looked like he was digging something out of his pocket. He shoved it through the little window. It was a small backpack. Jadira sank to her knees and started going through it. A powerful healing potion. Some lockpicks. A file. An easily concealable knife. A Sending bead. He reached for her through the bars. He grappled her hand, then squeezed it. Jadira didn’t know what to say. She averted her eyes. “I thought you left,” she said gruffly. “Told you I wasn’t leaving you behind.” “Yeah, well, you’re fucking full of shit, usually. Hire a new bodyguard.” “I already have a perfectly good bodyguard,” Shura said. He touched her face through the bars. She closed her eyes. It was moments like this that she remembered they were, technically, cousins. She just had no rank. Nothing to inherit. A low-ranking, late-born member of the clan, born to an offshoot of the main branch. Only good for guarding the trunk. “I have a plan,” Shura said quietly. “I’m going to retake the city.” “Shura--” “Just watch. I’ll be back. I’m sorry,” Shura said. “I can’t get you out. Now right now.” He squeezed her hand tight, using it to steady himself as he clung to the side of the building. Dexterous little fucker, Jadira thought. “Heal yourself, cousin. Eat something. Arm yourself. If anyone comes to hurt you-- fight them off. You don’t need to escape. Barricade the door, shank anyone who comes to hurt you or torture you. I’m coming to get you.” Jadira nodded tightly. She clasped his hand with her other hand. “Yes, prince.” “It’s not ‘prince,’” Shura murmured. “It’s Shura.” “Yes, Shura.” “I’ve got you,” Shura whispered. “I’m coming back. Call me if you need me to come faster. I’ll be here.” And he began scaling back down the tower. -- Shura wasn’t lying. By noon the next day, he’d taken Alabaster back. Of course he did, though. That was Shura. NEXT] Category:Vignettes